


The Banner Tale

by LittleMayBee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Developing Friendships, End of the World, F/F, Found Family, Hopeful Ending, Inspired by the Banner Saga series (Video games), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMayBee/pseuds/LittleMayBee
Summary: The world stands at the brink of destruction, as the army of darkness from the days past invade yet again. Unable to stop them, the people migrate South, creating an ever-growing caravan of refugees. Although from very different places, they come together under a single banner, a symbol of hope for a better world after the storm. A fantasy story set in a Norse mythologhy inspired world.
Relationships: OFC/OFC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Banner Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Lena (archiveofourown.org/users/missyay) and Karina (archiveofourown.org/users/qbert0) for being my amazing beta-readers. Your excitement about this idea is a reason why I have something to post now ^^

First came the wind. Its howl never bothered the creatures of the North. Both people and animals knew those winds well. This was how a potential observer could notice that a single raven making its way through the unforgiving weather was in fact not from around here.

The bird was as brave as it was clumsy, trying to find passage between everchanging conduits of remorseless air. The setting sun, barely visible on the horizon, didn’t help either. Out of sheer luck, the raven spotted an old, leafless tree with welcoming branches, a place to find a moment of peace. The raven pushed on and finally found itself perched within the taller parts of the tree. There, it found both cover from the vicious wind and a good spot from which to observe the far North.

Despite the seemingly dissociated flight, the raven was here on a mission. It was a scout for its handler, right now residing far to the South in a comfortable keep, probably near a warm fireplace, and with a lack of windy weather. It was hard to focus on observing with such a dichotomy in mind, but the raven was a professional, and despite all that, started to observe.

There wasn’t much to see. This far North, the only things you would expect were neverending woods and mountains. Not all was ruled by nature, as even here the raven spotted a single, small village surrounded by trees. This was why the winged scout was needed. Hardly anyone else could check on the northern parts of the Kingdom.

The raven visited in the rare time of the year when the North was not covered in a thick layer of ice and snow. Thanks to that, it could spot the village before its residents started lighting the lights in their homes, preparing for the night. With the last glimpses of the sun gone, the village became the sole beacon of light, bringing calmness to the raven. It seemed that things were alright around here.

Then, a single snowdrop landed on raven’s beak.

The instant irritation quickly changed into a growing worry. The raven looked around. After this small yet worrying harbinger, more started to fall. And more. And soon the white shimmer was seen all around the sky and on the tops of the trees, rocks and roofs.

The raven knew it was not supposed to happen. The people from the village knew it too, seeing as they started leaving their shelters and gathering between the homes to see what was happening.

Then, something else came.

It was only a sensation at first. It could not be described by any other word than dread. It seemed as if the air was almost vibrating with fear. Then the feeling grew into a sound. A deep rumbling, interjected with sudden and painful cracks. The raven started frantically looking around, trying to find the source of this noise and the dread that came with it.

Then it noticed. The mountains were opening. And from the cracks in the rock, from the falling stones, something came. At first it was only a couple of them. Even in the night, the sheer darkness of their armour could be seen. Helmets covering their faces, only showing their bright, yellow eyes, as flickers of a sickly flame. Brandishing dark blades, they continued moving out the mountains and through the woods, towards the village.

The villagers spotted them too, the raven could hear them screaming. Those were both screams of fear and of rally. They started arming themselves, getting ready for whatever those creatures were. The raven saw that the number of dark figures only grew, until the terrifying realization came to the scout.

It was an army.

It was too late for the villagers to realize the magnitude of the threat. The wave of dark metal and hateful eyes flooded and broke their wooden wall. The screams of rally faded. The only thing the raven could hear now was fear and panic.

Then the invaders spoke.

This was the moment when the terrified raven, despite the wind and snow, flew away, fleeing for its life. The scream it heard, the dreadful, metallic sound would never leave the poor animal. The scout was too far away now to see that the village stood in flames. In the pale, yellow light the army marched forward.

***

Frey opened her eyes. She woke up with a weird gut feeling. A sort of anxiety you couldn’t name, but could definitely feel was there. Faster than ever, she threw the warm, welcoming quilt to the side and looked out the window.

It was snowing.

Frey liked snow. She knew not many other townsfolk shared her sentiment. Hard to blame them. They lived very far up north, it didn't get colder than this. Personally, the cold didn't bother her so much. The snow-covered, wild woods around Vissila, her town, were her domain. Where sharp colors made everything clear, the animals left visible tracks, and no one beside her roamed the wilds. She always welcomed snow.

But this time, she couldn't help but worry. It was too soon. They had just celebrated the end of Autumn last night. It shouldn't start for at least a month. Frey got up from her fur covered bed and started to get ready. She was worried, but the snow was always a clear sign. She needed to go hunting.

She got dressed, gathered her brown, wavy hair into a long ponytail, and almost headed downstairs for her bow, arrows, and hunting knife when she remembered her parents, still sleeping. “Should I wake them up and tell them?” Frey thought to herself. And with that, she hunched a little. Not by much, but enough for her to notice and quietly growl to herself.

Frey was tall, strong, and agile. Nobody would say she looked out of place deep in the woods with a large bow, hunting for big game. She didn’t feel like it most of the time. Most often she focused on her large shoulders, dull, grey eyes, big ears, she could go on like that. She didn’t like to be visible, and her height didn’t help. So she hunched. She didn’t like doing it. She wanted to be small, but didn’t like the feeling of being small. And her parents were a big reason why she wanted that in the first place.

She came down the stairs, but still didn’t make up her mind. She peeked in through the half-opened door to her parents bedroom. She could already hear their near harmonic snoring. There she saw them lying in their bed. A large woman and a smaller man, both thick like wooden logs, mangled together in something that probably started as a goodnight hug, and through the night transformed into whatever it was now. Despite herself, Frey smiled, finding the picture rather cute.

Then her smile faded, as she remembered the argument they left on yesterday. It was nothing out of the ordinary, or family-breaking, but nonetheless exhausting. Enough to make her consider if she wanted at least a morning to herself.

After a minute of consideration, she slowly closed the door to the bedroom, grabbed her hunting gear and left the home.

Going outside, she felt how harsh the morning was. The cold in the air, pinching her skin and making her breath visible. The cold felt by other people passing her by, who still welcomed her with a warm smile. There were a lot of other people up, to her surprise. Not all of them in the best shape, after all the drinks were the most plentiful yesterday. But all of them had the same idea as her. There was a lot to prepare if winter came so soon. She heard a lot of conversations and orders shouted around, among many different groups. Woodcutters, fishermen, hunters, stonemasons, all of them in a hurry.

Well, almost all of them. Frey noticed a woman sitting in front of her door, a shout away from Frey's house, both standing on the same hill. Around the woman and on her lap laid a large, red cloth. Its surface was filled with numerous symbols and pictures, with little space left. The woman was in the process of sewing new additions to this chaotic, at first glance, set of images.

“Brea!” Frey shouted joyfully.

The woman looked up from her work. Brea had the face of someone who smiled a lot. Someone who always knew how to cheer you up or calm you down. Her dark eyes, adorned with the first glimpses of wrinkles, always looked at you with a mixture of calm confidence and warm empathy. It was why Frey liked her so much. Even if you didn't believe in yourself, you always believed in Brea's belief in you. As always when Brea saw Frey, she smiled.

“Good morning, Frey,” she replied. There was no need for shouting, as Frey closed the distance with a confident walk. “Are your parents awake?”

“Not yet. I let them rest, this may be the last day they could rest as much. And I want to have the woods for myself, at least today.”

Brea nodded with a smile.

“They had their special day yesterday, and you have yours today. Seems fair.” Brea noticed Frey's smile fading a little, and she quickly raised her hand and continued with a worried tone, “I didn't mean it was bad that you left early. Such loud festivities are not for everyone.”

Frey sat down in front of her and started to go through her arrows. She already checked all of them at home. But this way she had something to do with her hands and could not look at Brea while still talking with her.

“I know, I know, ”she half said, half exhaled, “You know that. You are a quiet soul too. My parents, not so much. I can't count how many times we’ve had that conversation already.”

Brea looked at young Frey. The bow lying on her lap was a gift from her mother, Thazi. Nobody was as good of a shot as her, and nobody knew the woods as well as she did. Quiet as a phantom between the trees and loud as a bear at the table. First to make everyone laugh, first to laugh with others, there was no one she was not friends with. Probably that was why she thought friendship with her daughter would come naturally.

The large hunting knife placed on Frey's belt was made by her father, Bald. A brave warrior during war and a listening friend during peace. People loved Bald, as he never seemed worried or angry. Even if you couldn't stay calm, you knew old Bald would. He would never complain as he had nothing to complain about, according to him. But Brea knew everyone had something to complain or talk about. Bald preferred to keep that to himself. No surprise then that someone who found it difficult to be honest with himself had trouble understanding his daughter.

Brea knew they were trying. But Frey was going for a hunt before they were even awake and talking with her aunt by choice rather than them. It proved they hadn't tried hard enough yesterday. Brea was perceptive, often to her own detriment, as she also worried a lot about others. She could guess when things went sour, and Frey decided to leave early. But Brea wouldn't bring it up until Frey did it herself.

She didn't.

“Are you sewing in yesterday's feast already? Was it that memorable?” Frey asked.

“Oh, not really,” Brea answered, going back to sewing, “Every year it’s mostly the same attractions, same jokes, and same food.”

“Then why are you putting it on the Banner?”

“Oh Frey, we talked about this. Precious memories don't need to be important.”

“Yes, I know. But shouldn't those be unique, at least? If you sew about every party we had, soon this Banner will get atrociously long.”

Brea stopped for a second to look at the part of the Banner she was working on currently. The white thread covered the red cloth, filling it with stories of the town of Vissila and its people. Brea has been working on it since she was a young girl, and she wasn't the first one to do it. This piece of cloth held the history of their community, long years of boredom and excitement alike. It was without doubt the most precious item in the whole town. The red cloth was in itself hard to obtain but the true value came from the memories, the years and years of stories.

Every person, every family had its place on the Banner. Everyone had the memory of them shown in the beautiful work of Brea the Banner Keeper, and the Keepers before her. People loved and respected Brea not only for her kind and loyal self, but for her taking on a duty to remember them. No matter who you were, what was your story, if you were a part of the community, Brea and the Banner would remember you. Everyone could always see the stories on the Banner displayed in the middle of the town while Brea was not working on it. No matter the time of the year or the struggles Vissila was going through, you could be sure that the Banner was tended to and sheltered from bad weather or any trouble. All of the townsfolk made sure of that.

Brea smiled again. Frey liked when she smiled like that. It brought comfort every time she saw it. If Brea was sure of something, Frey was as well.

“I am glad our story is getting atrociously long,” Brea replied, looking back at Frey again, “And who knows, something boring in the moment can be cherished in the future. Have a look at this.”

Brea started folding parts of the Banner to the side, going years back in Vissila’s history. Finally she pointed at a scene of two large groups of people meeting and sharing different goods and items with each other. Frey was not sure if she’d seen it before. She repeatedly tried to go through the whole Banner, but she never managed. Both because not everything was clear to her, and because she was absolutely not able to sit still for very long.

“This was one of the times Vissila and Askeldar met to trade. Nothing truly special, something like that happened and happens every month. It was definitely nothing remarkable to me, but being the Keeper, I made a note of that. And I am happy that I did, because this was the time I met her,” she said, pointing at somebody further away, below the hills.

Frey looked to her side towards the rest of the vast town, built around the hills and beside the river, which separated the village from the woods, Frey’s domain. There she again saw the townsfolk preparing for the early cold. Among them, she noticed a towering, muscular woman, preparing her cart and trusted axe to chop wood for winter stock. Despite it being really cold, she wore just a simple sleeveless vest, showing off her powerful arms. Her name was Nael and she was Brea’s wife.

While Brea was someone to give you a warm greeting smile and a gentle hug, Nael was the one to scream your name from several miles away, until the mountains shattered, and then run and grab you into the most bear of bear hugs. Frey had gotten a fair share of those too. Not that she complained when her face was pressed into the massive shoulder of this giant of a woman. Same for her lungs being crushed. She probably wouldn’t be able to take a breath either way.

Nael threw her trusted axe onto her shoulder and grabbed the cart, ready to move out to the woods. She looked up at Brea and Frey. Frey saw Nael opening her mouth and she already winced, knowing the volume of the voice that was going to hit them both. Not that, again, she minded. It was hard to be mad at Nael, when hit with such power of sincere appreciation and love.

“I will be back by sunset! Have a good day Brea, love you so much!” The mountain-shattering voice travelled the whole hill to reach the Banner Keeper and most of the town. The world couldn’t deny the strength with which Nael loved her wife.

Brea smiled softly, nodded and said, “I love you too.”

Nael smiled widely, as though she was able to hear the response, turned back and made her way into the forest.

“You see. A simple, boring memory for most, but one of the most cherished for me. Take a look here,” said Brea, pointing back to the discussed scene on the Banner. Frey saw two figures and immediately chuckled, realizing she had never noticed it before. There, a huge figure was giving an absolute bear of a hug to a tiny figure.

“I would be honestly scared if I didn’t know who Nael was and she gave me one of those hugs,” said Frey between chuckles.

“She asked me first, after I told her a very lousy joke. She was very sweet,” Brea said looking lovingly at the Banner scene.

Frey raised her eyebrow and smiled, seeing how dearly Brea still held this memory. At the same time, she felt a small, unpleasant sting. She couldn’t think of a memory like this for herself. Not a memory of love, necessarily. Frey knew her weakness for strong women very well but she also knew she felt more comfortable while seeing the love of others, rather than pursuing her own. What was bothering her was much broader. The feeling as old as time of not experiencing something really meaningful. She knew she shouldn’t be bothered with something like that, her life was good, filled with friends and excitement. She couldn’t help it though, to see the Banner and not feel this nagging frustration.

If only the knowledge of something being unreasonable would be enough to make us not pursue it.

Glad that none of those unpleasant thoughts caught Brea’s eye, Frey stood up and gave her a little hug around shoulders and neck, so she wouldn’t need to stand up too. Brea was still holding the Banner with one hand, but she put the other one on Frey’s shoulder.

“I am glad you two found each other,” said Frey, while taking a few steps back and throwing her bow on her back, “Now I will try to find something for us to eat.”

“Food is very important as well,” Brea nodded.

Frey was already several steps down the hill, so she just turned around and waved with a smile. Brea watched her go down, then past the rest of the town, and then passing a small wooden bridge. After that, the young hunter disappeared between the trees, the woods progressively filled with thick snow. Despite the lovely conversation about memories and wives, Brea didn’t stop worrying about Frey, her parents and probably a couple of other things. She exhaled heavily. Was there ever a time she was not worried? Ironically, she couldn’t remember.

***

Before Frey got far enough into the woods, the snow already covered most of it. Frey took a deep breath, probably the first proper one this day. She finally felt calm. She was in her element, and she was going to enjoy the morning.

Despite that, she couldn’t help but think about yesterday’s feast. The reason for the argument was rather small, she had just wanted to leave early, as she was not the type of person to enjoy such loud festivities. But of course Thazi took that as an opportunity to start making loud remarks about Frey’s character. The large quantities of beer her mom had drunk before that just made it worse. When Frey was still a teenager, she wouldn’t retaliate as much, but since she was a few years into her twenties she had started to confront her mom more and more. Thazi didn’t know how to react to it, so she was just being more of herself.

Bald had been trying to calm both of them yesterday, and this was where his mistake lay. Thazi was clearly in the wrong there, Frey had no need for arguing. But if Bald saw two people arguing, he was more focused on stopping the situation than the people involved. And if the people involved were his own wife and daughter, he got even more clumsy in his peacemaking efforts.

Frey knew what the issue was between her and her parents. They had their areas of expertise, and people weren’t one of those. They made for great friends and thought going the same way about parenting would work just as well. And when it wasn’t, they got confused and frustrated. One of the few things they could find some common ground in was hunting. They could have a good conversation about it, until Frey was swamped with the amount of things she should and should not be doing while on a hunt.

Speaking of hunting, Frey noticed a track left by a hooved animal. And with that, the entirety of her focused on finding the creature.

It took a long time, but Frey was in no hurry. This was the last thing for a hunter to do. The sun had already managed to rise to its fullest when the young huntress spotted a large stag, slowly making its way between the trees, and leaving a clear track behind it.

Frey waited until the stag found something to eat on the forest floor and stopped for a while. Then she took a moment to position herself, draw an arrow, and calmly aim at the heart of the animal.

Then the stag lifted its head to look somewhere in the woods, in the opposite direction to Frey. Before she thought what that could mean, she released the arrow.

The stag fell to its side. It stopped moving.

Frey got up and with a quick walk approached the animal. Even though she had done it many times, she always felt satisfaction from a clean shot. She admired the animal from up close, seeing all the hide and meat that would help the people of Vissila. Her hand went for the arrow and grabbed it.

And there, grabbing the arrow, Frey froze. She saw something between the trees. The same direction the stag had been looking right before its death.

A dark, armoured figure, an arrow shot away. Tall as a human, covered from head to toe with thick plating. A metal shield in their left hand and a long, dark blade in the right. Whoever it was, their face was covered by a metal helmet and a mask. The only thing visible were their eyes.

Bright, yellow eyes, as flickers of a sickly flame, looking right at Frey.


End file.
